


Air Band

by Leela



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Anal Sex, Humor, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, tourfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the hell had Ashley traveled around the world with them and not known that Adam got a key to Tommy's room? For that matter, given how many nights she's crashed with him, why hadn't Tommy ever told her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Air Band

**Author's Note:**

> **Betas** : Minxie, Aislinntlc
> 
>  **A/N** : I have no idea where this idea came from, but it wouldn't let me go until I finished writing out the images in my head. Besides, Ashley does not get enough fictional love.

"What was that?" Ashley lunges over to turn off the music and turns to stare at the door.

One hand lifted in mid-air, the other hovering just above the coffee table, Tommy stops air drumming. "I didn't hear any—"

"Ssshhhh." Ashley mimes zipping her lip and whispers, "Listen."

A few seconds later, she hears it again and recognizes the sound. Someone is attempting to stick a keycard into the lock of Tommy's room. This time, it's followed by a thud against the door and low-voiced muttering. Her heart thumping, she glances around the room before shifting closer to Tommy and the guitar that's propped up against the wall.

"If they get in, I'm going to hit them with your strat. Just so you know."

"Fuck no, you aren't." Tommy tosses the partly full bottle of Jack at her and pushes himself up to his feet. "Smash that over his head, if you feel like you have to do something. But you can explain the cancelled concert to the fans."

"What?" 

Tommy just rolls his eyes at her and heads for the door. He waits for another thud before unlocking it and yanking it open. Adam stumbles into the room. 

"Oh, hey," Adam says when he gets his balance. "Didn't know you had company."

"You scared the shit out of Ash, dude." Tommy kicks him in the shin with a sock-clad foot. "Next time try using the key to my room instead of yours. It's not that complicated. Mine's the one that isn't gold-plated."

"Fuck you." Adam flips him off.

"Your key?" To save herself from gaping at them, Ashley pours herself a drink out of the bottle she's still clutching. How the hell had she traveled around the world with them and not known that Adam always got a key to Tommy's room? For that matter, given how many nights she's crashed with him, why hadn't Tommy ever told her? 

"Old habit from Glam Nation," Tommy says, shrugging, as if that's an answer to the question she hasn't asked.

Adam makes his way over to the couch and flops down next to Ashley. He pulls off one boot and then the other, tossing them across the room to land somewhere near the door. His socks follow. Then he wriggles his toes and sighs. "Fuck that feels good."

"Not that you're not welcome," Tommy says, as he sits on Adam's other side, "but I thought you were going out tonight."

Ashley stays quiet, just watching them. Even after more than a year, and being allowed in as far as Adam and Tommy let very few people, she still doesn't quite understand the relationship between them. It's not like the one between her and Tommy — the one that he insists is like being brother and sister and she, well... she accepts that because she can't imagine not being this close to him.

"I did go out." Adam stretches his legs out and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Fucking great club too. Great music, pretty boys... and gyrating." Adam rocks his hips. "Would have been perfect, if people hadn't tweeted that we were there."

"Sucks," Ashley says, aiming for sympathetic. 

She misses by a mile, but gets a half-assed smile out of Adam by handing him her drink. He knocks it back and holds out the glass for more.

"Cockblocked." Adam takes a sip of Jack and puts the glass down on the coffee table. "By fans and their fucking cameras. I swear to god, one of them had a video camera with a zoom lens. Who takes something like that to a gay club? The only guys going near me were the ones who wanted to be seen with Adam fucking Lambert. They weren't interested in me."

"Coulda been worse, man."

"Yeah, you could've been there, and the cameras would've been up our noses."

Ashley snorts with laughter. "And you both hate that shit so much, getting all that love and attention."

Tommy and Adam share a glance, one full of memories that Ashley doesn't know, the kind that Terrance, Adam, and Tommy occasionally joke about in incomprehensible half-sentences, gestures, raised eyebrows, and smirks. Some days she really hates that she wasn't around for Glam Nation. 

Not that she can say that without feeling odd. She shrugs at herself and the silly bit of insecurity, and picks at a bit of fluff on her leggings. 

"Hey." Adam drops a hand on her leg, curling it around her knee. "We're having just as much fun now."

"Just not as much ass." Tommy rests his head against Adam's shoulder.

"Sucks to be you." Sticking out her tongue at Tommy, Ashley twitches her leg but Adam doesn't move his hand. Instead he squeezes lightly and sends a shock of heat through her.

"Some days." 

The silence that follows Tommy's quiet confession is awkward, weighty. Ashley wants to say something, to fix whatever she broke with that joke that fell so painfully flat. She doesn't want to hurt these guys; they mean too much to her for that. 

Then Adam says, "Seriously, though, if I don't get some fucking ass soon, I'm going to blow something."

"Bad fucking pun." Tommy groans. "Ugh. Don't do that."

"Sorry?" Adam shrugs his shoulder, jolting Tommy's head. After a second or two, he asks, "So what were you guys doing before I got here?"

Grinning, Tommy sits up and drums a beat on Adam's thigh. "Air band! Ashley's got keys down." 

"Really?" Excitement flashes across Adam's face. He lifts his hand off Ashley's leg and sits up. "I haven't played since... you know." 

"Yeah, I know." Tommy smiles back. "You're probably way out of practice."

Adam slashes a chord across an imaginary guitar. "It's like riding a bike."

They're almost as bouncy as Riff with his drum kit, and Ashley can't help but giggle at them. 

"You guys," she says, and waves a hand at them helplessly.

"Hey, no dissing the air guitar _master_." Adam bounces his head, as if he's headbanging, flings one arm out to press fingers on imaginary frets, almost whacking Tommy upside the head, and shreds invisible strings with a flourish that knocks him off balance to land sideways in Ashley's lap. "Oops," he says, turning around to look up at her.

It's not the first time Adam's laid down and put his head in someone's lap, but it is the first time that it was her lap. He's a little drunk and looks a little worse for the wear. His eyeliner's smeared, his foundation has been rubbed off in places, and his hair is no longer perfectly controlled by hairspray and product.

More gorgeous like this, she thinks, smiling at him, and brushes his bangs out of his face. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," he says, but something flashes through his eyes. Something she recognizes: loneliness. 

Unable to stop herself, she touches his hair again. "You don't have to be, you know? Okay, that is. Not with us."

"Yeah, what she said," Tommy says. "No fucking pretending here." He squirms into the tiny space between the back of the couch and Adam's side. "None of that shit, okay?"

Adam turns to look at him, and Ashley can see something pass between them. Not a look, more like a feeling, an understanding, an emotion she doesn't even know how to name. And then Tommy leans forward. She thinks, maybe, he meant it to be a peck on the lips, like he's given Adam more times than she can count, but that's not what happens. 

They kiss, pressing into each other. Adam's tongue is in Tommy's mouth, and Tommy's half-lying on top of him. On top of her. 

It's slow and intimate, filthy dirty with slow licks and nibbles, and full of caring. Ashley can feel their kiss, feel the heat of their bodies, the rhythm of Adam's head pushing and rolling against her thighs with every little movement. It's hot enough to dry her mouth and make her lick her lips, to send a rush of desire through her that leaves her wanting to spread her legs for something — someone — she can't have. She really doesn't get it, why they're doing this to her.

"Hey."

It's one word, spoken softly by Tommy, but Ashley jolts with surprise as her eyes flick open and she realizes that she closed them, lost in the feeling of them kissing.

"Umm..." is all she manages, because they're looking at her and the intensity of it is almost too much because it makes her feel part of whatever's going on.

Tommy reaches up and hooks a hand around the back of her neck, drawing her head down. "Say no," he says, distracting her from the way her pendant's shining in the darkness of Adam's hair. "Just say no if this isn't what you want. We can play air band until the fucking sun rises, if that's what you want."

"No pressure," Adam adds. "Either way will be good. Friends having fun with friends."

"Totally." Tommy nods. "What happens on tour, stays on tour. Nobody fucking talks. Ever."

"I've noticed," Ashley murmurs. She slides a hand over both of their heads, on the stubbled side of Tommy's scalp, and the soft-stiff length of Adam's bangs. She wants, she doesn't want, she doesn't have a fucking clue what to do. 

So she leans down and kisses Tommy. She's wanted to do it for so long, wanted to know how his lips feel on hers. She licks into him, tasting him, tasting what must be Adam. It's so trippy that she makes an odd squeaking noise, then covers it by sliding her hand into his hair and using it to hold him there, not letting him get away as she deepens the kiss.

When it ends, she finds herself looking into Adam's eyes. "I don't," he says. "Just so you know it's not about you."

"Mouths are the same," she says, because she knows how true that is from one long ago time that she never even thinks about anymore. "And fingers." Bending over she gives him an awkward, upside-down kiss, and then giggles when he licks her upper lip. 

"Asses too," Tommy adds. "Well, except for this one." He chuckles and slaps his ass. "The flatness is in a league of its own."

Adam shifts out of Ashley's lap, leaving her feeling bare somehow. He pulls Tommy over his legs, pushes up his shirt, and drops a kiss at the base of Tommy's spine. "Awww... poor baby," he says in an exaggerated coo, as he caresses Tommy's ass. "Did the big bad Tommy say nasty things about you again?"

"Fuck. Off." Tommy struggles to get off Adam and starts falling off the couch. 

Between them, Adam and Ashley manage to catch him before he cracks his head on the table. He stares up at them, wide-eyed. "This motherfucking couch is not big enough to hold us and you, Lambert. Not without killing one of us, and why the fuck does that always seem to be me?"

_Always?_

The question goes through Ashley's mind even as she blurts out, "Bed's bigger."

Shock makes her blush even as they both grin at her.

"Told you she was amazing," Tommy says. 

"On the bass," Adam responds.

Tommy flaps his hand at Adam. "Music... sex... whatever. It's all hot as fuck." 

Laughing, because there isn't any other response to that, Ashley pulls her legs out from under Adam and gets up off the couch. "I don't know about you," she says, "but I'm going over there where I can be more comfortable."

She's at the side of the bed when Tommy catches up with her. He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her back against his chest. This kiss, the press of his lips against the skin behind her ear, the touch of his breath against her skin, sends shivers through her. She leans back against him and lets him touch her.

One of his hands slides up to cup her one of her breasts through her shirt. The other splays over her belly, his pinky just above her pelvic mound.

"Tease." Ashley rolls her hips, feeling his cock press into her ass, his pinky move down a fraction lower. 

"Too many clothes," Adam says, making Ashley jump.

The covers have been pushed down to the foot on the bed, and he's lying on his stomach, completely naked. She can't help admiring the curve of his back, his ass, the length of his legs. Not quite off-limits any longer. 

"Too many clothes," Tommy repeats. 

Slipping his hands under Ashley's shirt, Tommy pulls it upwards. Without thinking, she lifts her arms to help him. Then she pulls away to strip off her leggings, bra and panties, watching him the whole time. Tommy's self-conscious enough that he undresses quickly, almost awkwardly. 

She follows Tommy onto the bed, crawling past Adam and over Tommy. Every movement makes her conscious of the heavy swing of her breasts and the flex of muscles in her legs and ass. She can feel them watching her, catches the heavy-lidded heat in Tommy's eyes before his gaze flicks from her to Adam, who's now lying on his side, head propped on one arm, his other hand placed proprietarily on Tommy's hip. His cock isn't quite soft, but it's not completely hard either, and it takes Ashley a moment to drag her eyes back up to Adam's face. 

Not that they noticed. Tommy and Adam are so focused on each other, communicating, Ashley's sure, even though they're not saying anything. Then Tommy's left eyebrow rises and he nods.

"Only for you." 

"I know, baby," Adam breathes, and he slides his hand down to the inside of Tommy's thigh. "I know." 

Whatever Tommy might have said in response is lost in Adam's mouth. They're almost biting at each other, Tommy's body turned into Adam's, pushing against Adam's. 

Ashley reaches out to touch Tommy, not quite feeling like she ought to touch Adam. He's said that he can't, which means that she shouldn't. So she slides in behind Tommy and lifts one leg to rest her foot just below Tommy's knee. She sucks up a red mark on the white skin of Tommy's shoulder blade and feels a shudder run through him. She does it again and again, littering his back and shoulder with marks, until he's bucking into Adam and back against her. 

She's lost in the pattern she's making, in the rhythm of his hips, his ass against her mound, when Tommy twines his fingers in her hair and tugs.

"Got condoms and lube, but what about...?" He trails off, but she knows what he's asking.

"Condom is good," she says, her heart starting to thump, the blood moving through her veins slow with heat. "I've got everything else taken care of." Because she does, because she never stopped taking the pills, even after the divorce was final.

Tommy's answering smile is sweet. His tongue sweeps over his lips, slowly, lasciviously, and she doesn't even try to resist the urge to taste him again. 

His tongue flickers in her mouth, strikes a long beat against her palate. His hand cups her breast, a calloused thumb rubs over her nipple, and she moans as want thrums through her.

With a hand on her hips, Adam encourages Ashley to move. She lets him guide her until she's straddling Tommy. And when Tommy releases her mouth to drag his lips down her throat to suck on her nipple, she arches back into Adam with a cry. 

There's Tommy's mouth on her, his cock sliding in the crack of her ass, Adam's rubbing against his, against her ass. Holding onto Adam's thighs for balance, Ashley rocks her hips, moving forward to grind her clit into Tommy's belly, and backward to press their cocks against Adam. 

Tommy switches to her other nipple, and her rhythm stutters. Adam slots a hand over her throat then, like she's seen him do to Tommy in so many old videos, and murmurs, "Distract him," into Ashley's ear.

The thing is though, Ashley wants to watch, wants to see Adam's fingers disappear into Tommy's ass. But that won't help Tommy. So she curves over him, forcing him to lie on his back. She slides a hand behind his head and encourages him to suck, to lick, to play with her breasts. And he's good, damn good. He rolls her nipple with his teeth, sending electric spikes of need sizzling through her. 

"That's it, baby," Adam says, and Tommy's legs come up, the front of his thighs pressing against the back of Ashley's. 

Tommy's mouth opens on a, "Fuck." His head presses back, and his hips rise. His cock slides against Ashley's ass, and she realizes that Adam's put a condom on it while they were distracted. 

This time when Tommy nuzzles into her cleavage, kneading her breasts, thumbing her nipples, his whole body is moving. He's thrusting up against her ass, pushing down on Adam's fingers, making noises the whole time.

It's not enough. Ashley needs more. From Tommy or Adam, she doesn't care. She just wants something for the ache between her legs. She arches her back and adjusts her stance, trying to get Tommy's cock rubbing against her clit, her vagina, something. 

Ashley's rocking almost mindlessly, occasionally feeling Adam's hands, occasionally kissing Tommy, wanting and needing when Tommy snakes a hand between them. His fingers curl, pushing up into her, circling her clit.

"God," she moans, and, "Please."

"Yes," Tommy hisses.

"Just lift up a little, Ashley," Adam says. 

She does, rising up on her hands and knees as Adam pulls Tommy beneath her, up onto his thighs. Tommy's head is back. He grabs one of her hands, and she laces their fingers together, holding on. His other hand is still between her legs, the rhythm of his fingers inside her stuttering, uneven, unsatisfactory. 

Adam presses in behind Ashley, pushing into Tommy. And when he asks her to sit up, she does that too, feeling Tommy's fingers slip out of her and leaving an ache of emptiness behind. She lets him lift her up and settle her onto Tommy's cock. She's filled inch by inch, moment by moment, until each circle of her hips ratchets her need higher as her clit rubs over his pubic hair.

They can't find a rhythm at first. It's awkward and bumpy, and Ashley hesitates more than once, trying to match the roll of her hips to the thrust of Adam's. Then Adam wraps a hand around their interlaced hands, and he begins to hum a song they know. Ashley adds her own voice, adding a bass harmony to his melody, and Tommy moves to their beat. 

Fast, fast, faster. Ashley holds onto Adam's upper thigh with her free hand to keep her balance. Her eyes flutter closed as fingers — Tommy's fingers — find their way back to her clit, and everything inside her tightens.

Adam's song rises and falls, wordless vocal riffs like nothing Ashley's heard before, but they push into her, drive her until she's gasping for breath. She lifts and twists her hips, taking Tommy deep inside her.

Tommy calls out, "Adam, fuck. Ashley. Please. I need. Please."

As Adam thrusts into him, Ashley grinds down. Tommy bucks up, pushes down. His mouth parts on a babble of words and sounds, and his entire body shudders with the pulse of his release.

Tommy's fingers spasm, and Ashley's lost. Wave after wave of orgasm surges through her.

She vaguely hears Adam call Tommy's name, murmur her own, as he bends her in two, catches her between him and Tommy as he comes. 

Afterwards, after Adam's cleaned them both up, she waits until Adam's spooned up behind Tommy and then she curls up against Tommy's front. None of them talk as they drift into sleep.

*

Ashley wakes in near-darkness to the sound of voices. The bathroom light is on, backlighting Tommy and Adam. They're whispering too low for her to make out words. Adam's dressed, and Tommy's still naked. There's desperation in the way they're hugging.

Something that sounds like an apology comes from Tommy, and Adam places a finger on his lips. 

"No, baby," Adam says, loud enough for Ashley to hear. "It's okay. It's always going to be okay."

Tommy shakes his head, and Adam kisses him. 

"Go to her," Adam says. "Stop being stupid." 

When Adam leaves, letting himself out, Tommy turns off the bathroom light and fumbles his way back to the bed. Ashley waits until he's lying down before putting her head on his shoulder, stretching an arm across his chest, curling a leg between his. 

Tommy wraps his arms around her. "Didn't mean to wake you." 

His voice is a little rough, as if he's breaking somewhere deep inside, and he's holding on to her just a little too hard. She presses up against him and hugs him just as tightly. 

"Do you—" He stops, letting go of Ashley with one arm, but keeping the other around her. He puts a finger under her chin, encouraging her to raise it, and she shifts around so he can kiss her. It's soft and gentle, full of need and something more, and she takes it and tries to give him back everything she feels for him.

"It's not fucking fair. To you or anyone else," he says. 

"It's okay," she says, intentionally repeating Adam's words. And it is, now that she understands; she'll get all of Tommy, even the part that belongs to Adam, because they won't, they can't do anything without her. She doesn't want to talk about it tonight though. Right now, she wants Tommy to herself.

"We can talk in the morning."

"Yeah, all right." 

Settling back down into his arms, Ashley falls asleep to the sound of Tommy breathing, a smile on her lips and hope in her heart.


End file.
